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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28066524">do i look moderate to you?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/discountghost/pseuds/discountghost'>discountghost</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A.C.E (Beat Interactive Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Blood and Gore, Evil Knives, Hand Jobs, Kinda, M/M, Necromancy, Outdoor Sex, Resurrection, Sacrifices, Things in the Woods</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:00:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,613</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28066524</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/discountghost/pseuds/discountghost</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In the middle of the woods, Donghun bows his head in the house of the old gods to get back what he's lost.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kim Sehyoon | Wow/Lee Donghun</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>do i look moderate to you?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omegatits/gifts">Omegatits</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He actually hated doing this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His brows furrowed as he considered all that he had to do. Really had to do. They had all come down to this moment of him chasing someone through the woods, but when he considered it, it would be worth it. He could almost feel the embrace that would await him when this was all done. A flash of their sheets at home, the curve of the other’s smile. But his bed was cold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Sehyoon was dead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For now. He had to remind himself of that. </span>
  <em>
    <span>For now.</span>
  </em>
  <span> There was finality, and then there was...this. What he was doing. His legs pumped faster and his pulse sang in his veins as his brain supplied him with motivation to keep going. Twigs snapped under his feet and his breath filled the air. But so did Junhee’s. He wasn’t far off, and even with the light having faded and gone, he’s been in these woods long enough to know them like the back of his hands. Junhee hadn’t. Junhee rolled into town in a car meant for the city and dreams meant for an empire. This was supposed to be his “strategic retreat.” He’d been so sure and that was what had drawn him to the man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, he followed the beacon of that brightness through the woods to the lake. Cornered him by the body of water because that was where this was supposed to go down, after all. You had to make some sort of balance. That’s what the waves had told him so he’d assumed it’d only be right that they would be where he made his offering. He puffed out a few more breaths. His legs were starting to ache. Junhee must be in much the same shape. No; he remembered the other idly offering up information about attempts at marathons. A restless body with undirected potential. He’d give his flesh purpose tonight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Donghun slowed. The moon peeked through the trees. The clouds would throw them into complete darkness every so often, but he’d gone this way so many times. The ghost of warmth curled around his hand as his fingers curled around the handle of the knife. Smooth metal chilled his skin. He had a reason for this. He licked his lips, tipped his head back. If he could explain it to Junhee better than he’d done before, maybe the other would understand. Maybe the other would find it in himself to forgive Donghun before he went to play in his guts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Water splashed and Donghun jerked his head to the side. There. The knife jumped in his hand, a hungry thing that thumped like a heart in his grasp. He’d marveled at that the first time it’d happened. It just meant that this was </span>
  <em>
    <span>right; </span>
  </em>
  <span>that he was choosing the </span>
  <em>
    <span>right one.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He couldn’t let the other go. He was running without a second thought. Sand and mud kicked up with each stride and Junhee turned his way as he thundered forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wondered, absently, if this was what they had wanted. What all those people who’d offered their condolences had meant when they said that Sehyoon wouldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> be gone. That he’d find it in the bottom of their rustic little cabin in a root cellar remodeled for other purposes. He wondered if they thought he’d have opened that box and seen that knife and thought that he could bring his love back. Junhee had looked at him funny when he’d first said that. But then, he’d tried for a moment to think about what it would be like to take the other up to the bed he’d once shared with Sehyoon like the rational, less desperate part of him wanted to. And he’d felt his insides curl up and sickness threatened to take him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t make it hurt, I promise.” Junhee had still eyed him like he’d grown a second head, but laughed, sipped his beer without apprehension. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He held up his hands, turned them up like an offering. “Okay, so I let you </span>
  <em>
    <span>theoretically</span>
  </em>
  <span> stab me with some weird knife. What happens after? Your fiance comes back to life?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not that simple.” It’s never that simple. He knew that from the moment the knife first started whispering to him, claiming that it could make everything right. That it knew what he wanted and how he felt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sehyoon had been into things like that. Things that would unnerve the irrational and horrify the rational. He’d brushed his collection of omens and absurdities off as a hobby, but there was too much dedication. Sometimes, Donghun wondered if his “hobby” had been what killed him. But then he remembered the faceless deer and the birds that flew but didn’t fly. He shut his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s.” He sucked his breath in, opened his eyes again. “It’s an offering. So, I’d have to make you presentable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’d dress me up like a corpse at a funeral.” Junhee chuckled again, though it held a lot less amusement the longer it went on. He’d sipped at his beer slower, sat up a little straighter. His gaze wandered over to the door, but Donghun hadn’t seen it then.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Donghun had been too preoccupied with the accuracy at the statement. And with how he’d already had to do that once, technically. Sehyoon had always joked that they were particularly tacky. Their house screamed of a middle-aged woman’s Pinterest board and their wardrobe like fathers of three on a perpetual Hawaiian vacation even when the storm clouds rolled in. He’d liked that about them. Their little stretch of paradise and that’s what they chose to make it. He hadn’t realized he’d started crying until Junhee had said something about leaving. Maybe he’d said something like “Maybe I should go.” Maybe he’d apologized. That detail was fuzzy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silky robe around his arms had a floral print, swished around his arms when he reached for the other to stop him from going. It drank up the water from the lake now as he held the other down. Not to kill; that was for the knife. It reminded him with a sharp sting in his hands as it got too cold. He used his fist to pummel Junhee into the water. The edges of his face, sharp with features so definite they could be seared into his memory, would soon be marred by bruises. He was a little sorry for that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other was limp when he pulled him up, head lolling back and eyes fluttering. He choked on his words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“P-please, stop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t.” Whispered, harsh. The moon shone over them. Blood dripped from Junhee’s nose. His lip was split. Donghun’s knuckles ached from where tooth caught skin. He might not have looked any better from their initial struggle, but he can fix that later. The knife sang in his hands. They had work to do. “I can’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just like he couldn’t stop with Byeongkwan. He’d been wrong then and he couldn’t be wrong again. They don’t offer second chances lightly, or often. The forest was both dead and alive. Silent of the usual bats and nocturnal creatures. But loud and heckling with the </span>
  <em>
    <span>others.</span>
  </em>
  <span> They crept at the edges of his vision as he dragged Junhee back. Not dragged; he walked the other back because they both knew how this would end. Junhee had simply taken longer to accept it. He stumbled as Donghun pulled him forward and the other caught the widening of his eyes as he realized all that was around them. He didn’t struggle, though, and Donghun was grateful for that. He didn’t think he had the energy for another run through the woods. Or that the things in the trees would leave him anything he could work with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they’d been asked why they’d moved out here, Sehyoon would always answer. He’d say that he felt closer to nature. He’d say that Donghun needed the setting for inspiration. The melancholy of the city was different from the haunting of the forest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sing ghost stories and lamentations of the long gone.” Sehyoon had put it so eloquently. “You make me mourn for something I’ve never known, never had, never wanted.” Then he’d put Donghun to bed, climbed on top of him and murmured lyrics to one of his songs into his skin as they sought oblivion in the darkness of their room. Their bed had been so warm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He suspected, though, that in this was a selfish desire that Sehyoon had disguised perfectly as...he couldn’t think of the word. Donghun blinked. They were back at the cabin, and in one piece. He nodded at the moon and the owl that couldn’t be an owl because there were four wide eyes stacked neatly atop one another. But you weren’t supposed to tell something what it wasn’t. Not at night. He made sure to lock the door tight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Junhee watched him with a body made of noodles. Flimsy limbs that wouldn’t hold him up anymore. He slumped to the ground, legs splayed and eyes pleading. The last strains of hope ringed his eyes and Donghun stared down until they were gone. Or, until Junhee closed his eyes and he couldn’t see them anymore. He’d opened the root cellar door so many times he could do it with his own eyes closed. He did just that, inhaled as he did it to steady himself. He was shaking. Not of cold, but anticipation. The knife sang. He’d see his love again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Going down the steps for not the first time that night, this time was harder. For one, he was carrying almost dead weight down the steps with him. Weight that put up the barest of fights, but still a fight. Donghun didn’t think much of the growl that had torn through his throat, but he did of the whimper that followed when Junhee looked at him. Not fire, not hatred; a sinking sort of pity and fear. Like he’d been left to drown. Maybe he was going through stages of something. Donghun looked away, figured he could give the other privacy of mourning himself silently. But he continued down those steps. His steps squished and sloshed as his wet boots hit the ground. His socks were soaked. He wrinkled his nose, and thought about Sehyoon would hop around after the rain through the cabin to watch the wet footprints scattered over the wood dry. His lips quirked up. Maybe he’d do that with the other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laid Junhee out over the bench. The other just looked numb, empty. The edge of a whisper parted his lips and when Donghun leaned in, he could make out the words. The same words that Byeongkwan had told him. There was something unceremonious about the rage that sweltered into him like a fire, sparked the flames that had eaten him up when Sehyoon had died. They’d found him smeared over a stretch of road that might have been a mile, maybe a little less. Putting him back together had been hard. So hard. They’d tried to tell him an open casket would hurt worse than not seeing, but he had to make sure everyone saw. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Donghun knew that it wasn’t a car just like everyone else in town knew that they weren’t just two good friends living together. That him going through a windshield hadn’t been what caved his skull in. That the force of him hitting the ground hadn’t been what had knocked his eyes out of their sockets. That Sehyoon hadn’t just dragged himself down the road blindly. No, something else had done all of that and everyone knew because he knew, too. He knew from the moment he’d first seen that faceless deer open an eye and speak to him in words that weren’t words. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You don’t belong here, do you?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The knife knew it too and it screamed and wailed an echo of his sorrow as it crested, fell in its arch and sank into Junhee’s chest. The other’s eyes widened, nearly bugled out of his head. Blood sprang forth like a fountain of red, staining his clothes. Donghun pulled the blade out. He threw it back down again and Junhee’s body curled up around it. Hands weakly tried to keep each descent at bay but the knife — it sang and laughed and danced and played over Junhee’s skin until there was more red than there was man. And when it was sated, fat and full, it let Donghun drop it to the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bare metal hilt, smeared in blood from his victim, hummed. It sounded a little like Sehyoon when he cooked. Rare because he’d always claimed that he preferred Donghun’s cooking. Rare because he said he didn’t trust himself with a knife. He hadn’t trusted himself with any knife other than this one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Donghun slumped down against the bench, let the blood pooling under it soak into his clothes. He regarded the knife with expectancy. A </span>
  <em>
    <span>now what?</span>
  </em>
  <span> hung in the air, because </span>
  <em>
    <span>now what?</span>
  </em>
  <span> The knife had only told him what to do. Kill him, it’d said. Over and over like a child making demands. It’d been silent when he’d shoved it into Byeongkwan, so maybe he was doing something right this time. Blood and dirt and lake water settled over his skin in comforting layers as he closed his eyes and waited. He gave it what it wanted, so it should give </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span> what he wanted. That was how deals worked, right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The body stirred. The bench rocked and when Donghun looked at it, fingers were pushing past Junhee’s lips. His bones creaked as they made way for something else. Donghun got to his knees, a prayer on his lips that this was working. It had to be. Byeongkwan had been still and quiet and </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead</span>
  </em>
  <span> after he’d driven the knife into him twenty-seven times. You keep count of those sorts of things; they tire you out enough that you have to remember for the sake of moderation. Now, though, the corpse he’d made shuddered and squirmed. His jaw snapped as the top of a head forced itself through his mouth. Donghun was grateful this required a dead body. He didn’t think he would have been able to do this if Junhee was still alive. Scratch that; he still would. He wouldn’t let a slight moral dilemma stop him from bringing back the love of his life. He’d already killed someone once before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thought back not to Byeongkwan. He thought back to Yuchan. Sweet, pleasant Yuchannie. They’d buried him together, Sehyoon crying into him the crook of his neck as his casket was lowered into the ground. He suspected that was where all of this started. Where Sehyoon found his hobby and Donghun found his ghost. His first ghost. His only ghost; he was getting Sehyoon back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew the figure that crawled out of Junhee’s skull with a vengeance like the back of his hands. He knew the dips and curves of muscles and fat and sinew and bone wrapped up in skin better than he knew his own body. He knew the taste of the flesh covered in blood as it shuddered at the cold hitting its skin like he knew his family’s secret brownie recipe. Donghun licked his lips, opened his arms for Sehyoon to stumble into. The other drew in a sharp breath, threaded bloody fingers into his hair. He kept it the same as when Sehyoon had been alive — had first been alive and warm and not dead and buried in the cold ground. Cropped a little short and pink. Sehyoon had laughed at the mistake in the dying but had said it looked good so he kept it. It was supposed to be red. Firetruck red; that would have been worse. He put on his best impression of a smiling, happy face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sehyoon didn’t answer with words, and Donghun didn’t have anymore to spare. He didn’t have much of a chance. The other lunged for him, wrapped him up in a grip too tight and crushed their lips together like he missed for so long. His body ached with bruises and longing, a hiss leaving him as he’s pushed back onto his butt. Sehyoong straddled him easily, smeared blood and something that looks suspiciously like skin over him as they kissed. He didn’t mind. He wanted to melt, wanted the other to melt into him or the other way around, but for them to be together as one in the most literal sense. His body burned with the need. But —</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not here.” He wouldn’t take Sehyoon in a root cellar, below ground. He wanted him out in the open, where they could be seen if someone was brave enough to watch. He wanted for them — for everyone that had placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a knowing smile — to see that they were right; Sehyoon hadn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> been gone. “The lake.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sehyoon nodded, silent, wordless. Hunger. It flickered in his eyes, even with the dimness of the cellar. They clambered up the steps and out the door. Donghun let it swing open. Sehyoon bore his teeth at the things that waited outside and they left the door open because tonight was for celebrating. They could have what was left of Junhee and they would have each other and they would go far. Far far away. His blood sang in his veins, threatened to pull him apart at the seams as they made their way to the lake. The moon shone down on their path, like a gesture toward a newlywed couple. They were married now, technically. In a way that was fit for the forest and the lake and the bones that Donghun had buried in the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sehyoon released his hand only to run into the water. He ducked his head under. Under the light of the first lamp, the water turned red. Donghun waded into after him, uncaring of the cold. Sehyoon’s arms wrapped around him as he resurfaced, and their lips found each other again. He tasted like dirt and blood. It might have just been the taste stuck in Donghun’s mouth, but it didn’t matter because he could </span>
  <em>
    <span>taste</span>
  </em>
  <span> Sehyoon again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other was pushing him down once more. The water was cool against his skin, but he burned hot under the surface. Sehyoon’s fingers seared flesh where they passed, relearning the shape of his lover with great interest. His back met the shoreline, the tide lapping over them. He let the rhythm of the waves licking at their heels, their calves, their thighs set the pace for the the rock of their crotches against one another. They were apart no more than a few seconds to breathe and then they were back on each other. Lips slotted together and hands twined in hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sehyoon’s hands went for his zipper and Donghun watched him. Something in him coiled at the sight of the other. Finally here, finally his again. The moon cast shadows and lightened the planes of his face as the other’s gaze flicked up to his face. Teeth gleamed white with a toothy smile that felt so right. Even more right when fingers wrapped around his cock. The groan trapped in his throat was held at bay by more kisses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d been careful, restrained. A delicate balance between moderation and the painful edging of the memory of his lover. Sometimes, he lingered in the one bar he didn’t go to with Sehyoon </span>
  <em>
    <span>before</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Maybe he’d go back there with him now, show them the after. The after of him getting piss drunk and weakly claiming that he would never take another. Which was true; he’d toyed with the thought of it like he had with Junhee. Like he had with Byeongkwan. But he’d been filled with an urge to retch on the spot each time because they would never be Sehyoon and it would never be the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would never be like now, with their sexes pressed together. With the waves washing over them and slicking the glide. He wanted to bury himself deep in the other. Six feet under deep. Deep until his head swam and he feared he might drown. But he held that sentiment in and stored it away for later. They had more than enough time together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sehyoon hunched over him as he came, spilling come over Donghun’s stomach. A whimpered passed his lips as he continued to rock his hips into his hands, gaze intent on the other now. Trained on Donghun. Or maybe through him. The shudder that passed through him was the only warning he had before he came as well, the two of them mixing once more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d hardly realized he’d been crying until Sehyoon swiped a tear from the corner of his eye. Pressed his thumb into his mouth as he stared Donghun down. The smile that spread over his lips was every bit like the one in his memories.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are.” </span>
  <em>
    <span> I missed you. I love you. It hurt when you were gone.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He didn’t need to say any of the words that filled the silence of the night. Their silence. Their space. They had </span>
  <em>
    <span>time.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Sehyoon’s smile turned shy. “Did you miss me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did. So much.” The slightest bit of restraint he had was gone and the tears came like a dam had been broken. “I missed you so much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sehyoon let out his own hiccupy sob. “I missed you, too.” A beat, then. “I’m so </span>
  <em>
    <span>hungry.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s get you something to eat.” Another beat. “And some clothes.” </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>so what if it was obvious that I had Florence and The Machine's Moderation on repeat while writing this?</p><p><a href="https://twitter.com/discounthaunts?s=20">twt</a> | <a href="https://t.co/knd2qckQ79?amp=1">cc</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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